“Who...?” Sofie asks, her voice a trailing whisper despite the raging storm.
“Alia. That’s Alia’s voice.” I look to them. “Will you sing with me? Please?”
Come away, come away—
The tempest loud
Weaves the shroud
For him who did betray.
As we sing along, something almost tangible seems to spread warm and true over my back, down my arms, and into the hands of Will and Sofie, connecting us. Bonding us. Will draws in a quick breath at the touch of it, his grip tightening on my fingers. Sofie lets it flow over her—Sofie who lost her sister, too, who knows this pain. She breathes it in, lets it flow. Agnata’s eyes pop open, and for the first time in a day, she’s not protesting or lying or running. She’s with us.
Come away, come away—
Beneath the wave
Lieth the grave
Of him we slay, him we slay.
Alia is with us as we finish the final stanza with one voice.
There’s a lilt in the wind then. A temperature drop. And the four of us on the rock raise our faces to the sky. The storm clouds evaporate before our eyes.
Holding tight to my new family, I look over my shoulder to the sea.
It’s quieting.
Calming.
The waves are receding. And when the water washes away from the sea witch’s cove, it’s no longer black, but as blue as the coming dawn will allow.
39
Evie
THE SEA KING’S DEATH SHAKES THE VERY FOUNDATIONof the ground beneath us. Not from the impact, but from the pure magic inside him. Hoarded, stashed, amassed. Stolen.
He lands with a sick thud, too heavy to bounce and roll, but too magical to sink into the seafloor.
The crowd chokes on its surprise.
Their king, dead on the sand, magic bleeding out of him like a procession of stars. It permeates the waters around us, the azure deep imbued with every particle of magic he was holding for his own. It spreads over the masses like sunlight, blanketing all of us in a shimmering, luscious renewal.
As Alia and her sisters finish their song, the remainder of the royal family draws itself out from the shadows of the castle. The five older girls, their children, their consorts,and their stepmother. Queen Bodil’s head is held high, and she looks every inch as regal as anticipated despite being dressed in nightclothes.
I wait for her to address me. She will. I expect her to scream, shout, claw at me.
I’m a murderer now—no one can deny it.
Below, thousands of witnesses look up. They hang together, unsure of what to make of their new magic, of the new balance of power, of the body on the seafloor and the confrontation about to happen above. Some sang along with Alia and her sisters, and now everything is eerily quiet. Above us, the waves calm and the storm clouds clear—as silent above as it is below.
As an entire kingdom watches, the queen approaches. Alia’s ghostly hand is wrapped in mine, Eydis on the other side. Ola and Signy bracket us as we come face-to-face with the queen.
If I were the girl I was back on land, this is when I would’ve begun defending and explaining myself.
I didn’t know that spell would kill him.
